


minty coffee and sugary kisses

by phylocalist



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Fluff, a coffee shop au with a dash of modelling au?, almost every other yoi character gets mentioned but doesn't appear rip, everyone's gay and almost everyone's trans welcome to the perfect world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phylocalist/pseuds/phylocalist
Summary: A breath in, a breath out. Sara walks to the table she saw Mila sit on with a coffee in one hand and plate with the muffin in the other. It’s not like they’re short on staff and, in reality, sheshouldn’tbe doing this, this isn’t her work, but. Shewantsto.(God, she’s so weak for pretty girls. Always has been.)Or: Five times Sara makes a coffee for Mila in a coffee shop as an acquiantance, one time she makes a coffee for Mila in her apartment as her girlfriend.





	minty coffee and sugary kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [infiniteandsmall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteandsmall/gifts).



> this was, first and foremost, written for fia [infiniteandsmall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteandsmall), the BEST cheerleader and enabler out there. they're also an AMAZING writer, so you should definitely check out their fics if you haven't already. i hope you enjoy this, fia, and it hopefully gives back some of the amazing support and love i've gotten from u. <3
> 
> second, this was also inspired by [yoi rarepair monthly](https://yoirarepairmonthly.tumblr.com/)! this is for their prompt: coffee shop au. go give them some love and maybe consider writing a fic for one of their prompts.

It’s the week before Finals Week.

Sara knows it, has been working on this coffee shop long enough to recognize the patterns that happen throughout the year. And soon, it’ll be finals week. The exhausted college students will come filing in through the door like flies towards honey, will demand coffees with double and triple shots of espresso so they continue on with their week-long all nighter.

She hasn’t had it happen to her, but Phichit told her one time in finals week someone asked him for an extra hot americano with four shots of espresso, proceeded to spill about half of it on their hand, looked down at it and shrugged, and then walked out of the store like nothing happened even as Phichit was screaming for them to _please stop, I’ll take a look at your hand, it must be burnt!_ They didn’t stop. Phichit had to let them go, but he still to this day wonders if they ever took care of the burn and if they turned in whatever they were working on.

Needless to say, Finals Week is a dreadful time for both the students suffering through it and the baristas and waiters that have to serve them their coffee. It’s always busy as fuck in their little coffee shop because it’s merely a block and a half away from a big university. But Sara has suffered through it at least twice already and she thinks she’s prepared enough for what’s looming in the horizon.

For now, since it’s not really Finals Week yet, there are a few more students going in and out than usual, but they’re not at full capacity most of the days, or swamped by to-go orders like they’ll become in a week. This week is mostly people that have the common sense of working on their projects earlier than the week they’re due and thus don’t look as exhausted or battered. They almost look human, if you ignore the bags under their eyes and the resignation in their stares.

There are exceptions, though. Like the one standing before Sara in the register right now, all short fiery red hair and sparkling blue eyes. She definitely fits the college student mold, but doesn’t look nearly as drained of life as most of the other students that visit on a daily basis. She looks almost… energetic. It almost takes Sara by surprise for a moment, but she quickly remembers herself and smiles at the customer.

“Good evening, what can I get you?”

The girl is looking intently at the menu of drinks on the back wall. Purses her lips a little bit, in what’s almost a childish pout, and Sara has to resist the small smile that it incites in her.

“Can I get a Latte with Mint Syrup, please? The biggest size you have,” she finally decides, and recites her order to Sara directly, smile almost too bright.

Sara stammers for a moment, caught off-guard by the radiance of the smile. She doesn’t think she’s seen such a genuine smile before, and it’s warm and brings a rosy tint to the high of her cheeks. “Sure,” she quickly composes her voice with a clear of her throat. “Would that be hot, cold or frappé?” Her fingers are just the tiniest bit shaky when she starts inputting the order onto the register. She doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Hot, please,” the girl says distractedly, her gaze wandering to the baked goods they have on display next to the register, eyeing them with longing.

Sara notices. She rings up the order and tells the girl the price, but before she can finish the payment Sara casually comments, like she doesn’t even mean anything by it, “the blueberry muffins are delicious. The minty latte combination also goes well with the chocolate muffin or a slice of chocolate cake.”

The girl bites her lips, looks over the deserts once again, and then groans. “I really shouldn’t…”

But Sara notices the way her eyes are still making their way towards the desserts area reluctantly, and then go back to look at her, almost imploring, like she’s asking permission from Sara to eat them. Sara barely holds back a chuckle, because it’s so endearingly adorable.

“It’s okay once in awhile.”

“If you say so,” the girl grumbles, then points to the chocolate muffin like she’s being held at gunpoint and has no other choice. It’s adorable. Sara has to bite her lip to not let her smile grow too big. “Add one of those to my order, then.”

“That’d make it a Latte with Mint Syrup and a Chocolate Muffin, is that correct?” She repeats the order with a nod and a soft smile.

The girl seems to try to keep the scowl in her face, but fails miserably and breaks into a shy smile. Sara’s cheek’s heat up for some unknown reason. “Yeah.”

Sara tells her the amount to pay and the girl hands her some bills. In a spur, Sara blurts out, “Could you give me your name?” She fumbles for a minute, then holds up the cup for her coffee. “For the coffee.”

It’s _very_ possible that Sara imagined it, actually that’s definitely what happened, but she swears the redhead's eyes become sharper and almost teasing.

“Mila.” The smile she gives Sara is _anything_ but polite customer-provider etiquette. Sara feels a shiver run down her spine and thinks, for some reason, she’s not gonna forget this name.

“We’ll call you when your order is done, please feel free to take a seat.” Sara smiles, although a bit wavery, at her as she fumbles with the sharpie to scribble the name on the cup. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the redhead walk to a table and sit down, so she thinks _fuck it_ and doodles a heart next to her name. Mila.

With a quick sweep of the place, Sara confirms there are no other customers waiting in line to make their orders, so she walks to the bar area and works on Mila’s beverage herself. It’s a pretty simple drink, the only additive the mint syrup, so it’s done pretty quick. She grabs one of the chocolate muffins from the display case and heats it up for just a few seconds, the perfect temperature she thinks they should be. She hopes Mila won’t mind.

A breath in, a breath out. Sara walks to the table she saw Mila sit on with a coffee in one hand and plate with the muffin in the other. It’s not like they’re short on staff and, in reality, she _shouldn’t_ be doing this, this isn’t her work, but. She _wants_ to.

(God, she’s so weak for pretty girls. Always has been.)

Sara clears her throat. Mila is typing away at her laptop, concentrated on her work, so Sara thinks she has to be a bit more forceful. “Here’s your order,” she says, putting down the plate with the chocolate muffin behind the screen of Mila’s laptop.

“Oh!” Mila looks just a bit startled, and she looks up at Sara with one of those radiant smiles. It makes her knees weak. “You didn’t have to.”

Sara shrugs. She knows. “It’s alright. Here’s your Latte with Mint syrup.” She places the coffee cup next to her hand on the laptop and sends a smile down her way as well. “Hope you enjoy it.”

Mila eyes the cup for a moment and for a few seconds Sara really wishes she won’t notice the small heart. Her sharp stare and almost-teasing tone tells her otherwise. “I’m sure I will.”

The color returns to Sara’s cheeks. Unable to find something else to say, she does a little bow with her head and scurries back behind the bar. With her back to the coffee shop, she buries her face in her hands just to feel how hot it is. God, pretty girls will be the death of her.

Her phone vibrates in her back pocket and for a moment she forgets about her self-pity to check it.

[15:19] Phichit: _she’s REALLY cute!!! i say go for it tiger  
_ [15:19] Phichit: _u gotta give me all the deets tho_

With an exasperated shake of her head, Sara types back a reply.

[15:20] Sara: _Aren’t you supposed to be doing inventory in the backroom?_

[15:20] Phichit: _★~(◡‿◕✿)_  
[15:21] Phichit: _u know i can’t ever miss anything that goes on in this coffee shop_  
[15:21] Phichit: _ANYTHING!!!  
_ [15:21] Phichit: _who else would have all the info to blackmail then_

She has to give him that point, though. Phichit’s seemingly unending stash of information has come in handy to her in more than one occasion, and it has been useful countless times to all of his friends. It still doesn’t excuse him for not doing his work.

[15:23] Sara: _Whatever, just go back to your work_

[15:23] Phichit: _ask for her number!!!_

With a sigh, Sara puts her phone on silent and very decidedly ignores Phichit.

She lets herself entertain the idea for a few seconds. Maybe she should.

 

*

 

“Could you give me the same thing as last time?” says Mila two days later at the register that Sara is handling once again.

Sara fumbles for a second at the sudden appearance of the girl. She hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings and hadn’t seen her come in. She’s just as pretty as before, her loose, wavy hair a fiery red and her big, expecting eyes a beautiful ocean blue. Sara quickly grabs the biggest cup they have and places it on the counter, entering the order on the register.

“Uh,” she says, and then mentally slaps herself. She hopes her flustered state passes as her just being forgetful and trying to recall Mila’s order. As if she doesn’t remember. “It’s… a Latte with Mint syrup and… a chocolate muffin, right?”

“Right. The name’s Mila, by the way,” she say. As if Sara doesn’t remember.

As if Sara hadn’t spent the whole of the day before thinking about the pretty redhead that had come into the coffee shop as a flurry of brightness and energy, very unlike the other students that came to the place. The way she had stood out, only with her presence and cheery vibe, the way she had imprinted herself into Sara’s mind.

Sara swallows and accepts the money Mila hands her. “Right. Your order will be up in a minute.” She manages a wavery smile, which she hopes is steady enough to not look like she has no idea what to do with herself.

“Thank you.” With a nod and another smile, Mila walks over to the tables. After a moment of debating, she chooses the same one she used the last time.

Letting out a big breath, Sara turns around from the register and tries to will her blush away. It’s not too obvious, thanks to her tan skin, but it still makes her very aware of the effect Mila has on her. God, she’s only seen the girl twice, why is she so flustered over Mila? She’s pretty, yeah, almost _too_ pretty to be legal but. Sara’s known pretty girls, has dated pretty girls, so what’s different? She has no idea.

For now, she concentrates on making the coffee with the utmost care. She’s not the best barista out there, but she’s confident in her abilities, and the idea that Mila will be drinking something she made just makes her want to do better.

Once everything’s done, she takes everything to Mila’s table with a smile and a slight blush high on her cheeks.

Mila looks at the coffee cup once again, then frowns a little. “You forgot the heart.”

It takes Sara by surprise, so much so that a giggle bubbles up from her throat out of nervousness. She takes one hand to play with the loose strands of hair that fall out of her bun sheepishly. “I’m sorry?”

“Just don’t forget it next time.” Mila smiles teasingly and then, honest to God, _winks_.

Sara thinks she might melt right there.

In the distance, Phichit tries to suppress his scream.

(She still doesn’t ask for Mila’s number.)

 

*

 

The next time Sara sees Mila is at the so-dreaded Finals Week.

They’ve been swamped since Saturday, so the manager gave them more staff for this branch and there’s now two people attending tables, one at the register and two baristas. Sara and Phichit are the baristas and they make a good combination, firing out drinks almost faster than they come in, which is really fucking fast. They’re managing, somehow, even if they’re thoroughly exhausted by the end of the day.

The students look worse than they do, though, so it helps Sara feel a little bit better at the prospect of helping them get a shot of very much needed energy.

She shouldn’t have known Mila was here, actually, because she has no contact with the customers. But Guang-Hong passes her an order for a Latte with Mint syrup and Sara has to immediately look back at the tables and look for that unmistakable red bob —

— Which is now looking directly at her. Mila looks _tired_ , almost all of her cheery energy gone, but there’s a residue of it on the smile she’s giving Sara as she waves. And Sara waves back, a small tired smile of her own.

It’s almost comforting, this weird familiarity they’ve built where they both understand they really don’t have time to greet or talk to each other today. They accept it and it’s not weird or bad.

Sara’s eyes soften as she watches Mila open up her laptop with a yawn.

And if she puts an extra free shot of espresso into Mila’s coffee, well, Phichit’s not gonna rat her out.

(She thinks maybe it’s too late to ask for her number now.)

 

*

 

It’s not quite the end of Finals Week just yet, but they’re getting there. There’s only about a day or two left, since it’s different for every student, but the number of bleary-eyed, tired college students keeps diminishing by the day and Sara is oh so grateful. She doesn’t have to stay at the coffee machine all day, preparing drink after drink without a break.

Since they’re not so swamped anymore, they put only Phichit on beverage duty and Sara was moved back to the register, with Guang-Hong and Leo on the tables. Sara likes the register the best, even if she doesn’t know why. Maybe because she doesn’t have to work as hard as when making coffee and doesn’t have to constantly reach out to customers.

Sara is leisurely checking the checks, making sure every order has been handed out properly since there’s no one at the register, when her phone suddenly vibrates on her back pocket.

[16:48] Phichit: _ya girl coming in at 8 o’clock!!_

She frowns, confused, and quickly types back a reply.

[16:49] Sara: _What girl??  
_ [16:49] Sara: _I also don’t think you know how that system works_

There’s an outraged gasp in the vague direction of the coffee machine, but it gets drowned out by the sound of the bell chiming as a new customer comes in. Sara quickly locks her phone, completely aware she shouldn’t be using her phone, even less texting, in the middle of work. Her customary polite smile stretches her lips on instinct.

“Good af…” Her sentence trails off and her smile becomes warmer, kinder, when her eyes meet sparkling ocean blue.

Mila struts to the counter, stopping just in front of the register, and gives Sara a smile that could melt all of the ice in the world and then use that water to grow beautiful flowers. Her hands are in the pockets of her bomber jacket and she’s wearing some ripped, tight jeans that make her thighs look dangerous and _beautiful_. She takes her hands out of her pockets once she reaches the counter and starts rubbing them against each other, blowing on them.

“Pretty cold outside,” she comments, and Sara finally notices the way her nose and cheeks are tinted pink. It’s adorable.

“Huh.” Sara looks back at the window that spans one of the walls of the coffee shop absentmindedly. “I guess it is. I never notice it since I’m in here all the time.”

And she chuckles, to which Mila chuckles back.

“Best perk of the job, I assume.”

The exact moment Mila talks, Sara can feel someone walk behind her. Phichit hooks his head on Sara’s shoulder — for which he has to stand on his tippy toes because he’s shorter than her, looks down at Mila with a big, cheesy smile.

“Good day!” He says, to Mila, and then leans closer to Sara to whisper in her ear, “told you your girl was coming.”

It paralyzes Sara, a bright flush appearing all the way down to her neck and up to the tip of her ears. Phichit quickly scurries away in the direction of the backroom, always so quick on his feet. He’s learned how to run away efficiently after so many attempts.

It doesn’t help that Mila is looking up at her with an unsure smile, now, and a raised eyebrow. There’s almost genuine concern in her eyes and Sara fumbles, unsure what to do with herself. She settles on ignoring the very obvious blush, hoping it’ll go away on its own, and forces herself to go through with the customer service motions.

“Will it - uhm, be the same as always?” If Sara’s voice is maybe a little bit more high pitched than normal and she suddenly can’t meet Mila’s eyes, well, whatever.

Mila examines her for a few more moments, but then with a shake of her head turns back to the desserts. “Yeah, just give me a slice of carrot cake today. Y’know, gotta shake things up a little bit from time to time.”

Sara meets her eyes by accident, and so she catches the wink Mila throws her way and, _God_. Could she not make it more difficult with her gorgeous eyes and bright smiles and slightly teasing tones that make it feel like she’s flirting with —

Sara clears her throat. “Sure thing.” She smiles at Mila and finally meets her eyes to tell her the price. “It’ll be done in a minute.”

When Mila pays, Sara immediately turns around and looks for Phichit. When she doesn’t find him at the coffee machine, where he should be, she takes out her phone to type a text message to him.

[16:58] Sara: _Come back here you little shit and do your job, you have an order_

As an afterthought, she sends:

[16:58] Sara: _Your name should be Phishit_

Her phone vibrates on her hand as a sign of Phichit’s reply, but before she can look at it, a noise behind her interrupts her. She turns back to find Mila still standing in front of the register, drumming her fingers on the counter and looking almost nervous. It makes her immediately perk up.

“Sorry, do you need anything else?”

“Could you, uh…” she starts, and twirls a finger around one lock of her hair. She doesn’t seem to be able to look Sara in the eye. “Could you be the one to bring the stuff to my table? Please.”

Sara gulps. She was gonna do it anyways, but the fact that Mila is asking her directly, it has her feeling bashful for some reason. The blush comes back, though less intense this time, and she manages a small smile. “Sure thing.”

Mila nods, her eyes on the floor, and walks over to her usual table.

Sara lets out a confused breath, then remembers Phichit’s already replied to her texts from before.

[16:58] Phichit: _i’m legally changing my name to that_  
[16:58] Phichit: _BUT!! I can’t do ur girl’s drink!! what if i fuck up and some of my man-loving energy gets mixed up there and she becomes straight  
_ [16:59] Phichit: _you have to do it there’s no other way_

With a sigh of exasperation — and just a little bit of fondness —, Sara replies:

[17:01] Sara: _That’s the worst excuse you’ve ever given me for not doing your job  
_ [17:01] Sara: _But I’ll cover for you just this once_

[17:02] Phichit: _i am a CUPID!! (*￣з￣)_  
[17:02] Phichit: _jot that down because this WILL bring you gals together  
_ [17:03] Phichit: _YOU’LL BE THANKING ME LATER_

Sara rolls her eyes as she reads Phichit’s messages and locks her phone without replying to them. If she continues talking with him, he’ll just keep the conversation going and talk her ears off about how he’s the best wingman there could ever be. When, in reality, all Sara knows about Mila is her name, how damned pretty she is, and how she likes her coffee. Not like she didn’t wish she knew more.

Whatever. For now, all she has to do is finish making her coffee, grabbing the slice of carrot cake she ordered and bring it to her table. Which is exactly what she does.

Except, when she’s turning around to leave the table after a polite smile at Mila’s face, her eyes focused on the screen of her laptop, a gentle touch stops her. She turns back with slightly raised eyebrows, surprised, to find Mila’s eyes still trained on her laptop, her cheeks a slight red and her bottom lip being chewed on by her upper teeth.

“Would you…” Mila starts, then finally looks up at Sara’s face and blurts out like it’s been ripped from her in one breath, “would you model for me?”

“Uh,” is all Sara manages. She looks back over her shoulder, bewildered, as if looking for someone else Mila could possibly be talking to even though she’s got Sara grabbed by the wrist and very obviously talking to her. Sara finds Phichit behind the counter, though, and he gives her a thumbs up with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. That makes her finally look back at Mila. This can’t possibly be happening. “Excuse me?”

Mila finally lets go of Sara’s wrist, just to bury her quickly-reddening face on her hands. Sara can see the tips of her ears poking out from her hair and they’re blushed. It’s adorable.

“That was probably not the best way to word it,” Mila says into her hands, her voice a little muffled. She looks up from her hands, but doesn’t look directly at Sara when she continues talking. “I’m studying Fashion Design. And my final project for this semester is a fashion show for clothes I designed and created. The thing is, I need models, for both promotional pictures and the show, but the whole concept of this line of clothing is that not _only_ skinny, white people can wear it.” And this is where she starts to get excited, her passion really showing through in her voice, the big grin stretching her lips, her hand gestures. Sara can’t look away from her. “So I’m looking for all sorts of models. Chubby and tan, tall and short, young and old. Trans folks. People who don’t fit into the societal concept of _beauty_ which is, may I add, completely gross. My teacher doesn’t believe I can round up enough people like that to model, so I’m also doing this to spite her.”

There’s a gleam of challenge in her eyes and Sara feels like the breath has been knocked out of her. Mila’s too cool for literally _anyone_ , there’s no chance in hell she could have an opportunity.

“And I was wondering if you’d like to model for this clothing line, since I think you’re pretty and would be _perfect_ for some specific designs,” Mila finishes, looking up at Sara with those sparkling eyes and a truly innocent smile, like she’s not even aware she just called Sara _pretty_ and said girl is now having to contain herself from melting into a puddle.

“I, uhm,” Sara stutters, looking around, as if an answer will magically appear out of thin air somewhere around her. She catches Phichit behind the counter for a few seconds and he’s nodding frantically, though there’s no way he can hear their conversation so far away. “But I don’t even know —”

“Oh!” Mila cuts her off. “You don’t need any modeling experience! I’d like the photos to feel as natural as possible and if you’re willing to walk the runway I’ll get you guys some modelling classes, don’t worry.”

She’s smiling like she’s got everything figured out already and Sara gulps in defeat.

(She definitely has _her_ figured out at least.)

“I’ll - I’ll do it.”

Mila starts clapping excitedly. “Oh my God, thank you so much!” She suddenly stretches forward and grabs hold of both of Sara’s wrists. The color rises to Sara’s face. “You’ll be wonderful! And if you have anyone you think would be willing to model as well, I’d love to hear of them.”

And Mila’s smile is so earnest and her eyes are so excited that Sara’s talking before she even realizes it. “Phichit’s trans.”

“Oh?”

Sara wants to slap herself across the face as soon as she realizes what she said, but Mila’s still got her wrists on a hold and is now looking at her quizzically, so she can only blush and break eye contact as she explains.

“Phichit’s the bartender? The one behind the counter right now. He might like to model as well.”

“That’s great!” Mila’s smile is kind, but the knot of guilt in Sara’s stomach is still heavy. “Tell him about it and I can sort out detail contacts with you before I leave.”

Mila finally lets go of Sara’s wrists so she shoves them in her back pockets to avoid them being held hostage again. She gives Mila a small, final smile. “Yeah.”

Once she’s back behind the counter, she slumps over it, hiding her face in the crook of her arms. Phichit’s immediately beside her, poking her in the ribs.

“Spill it, girl!” He says, almost childlike excitement in his voice, that shit-eating grin probably still in his face.

“I’m sorry,” Sara says instead.

That makes Phichit stop poking her and frown. He pulls her face up and looks at her seriously, examining her eyes for a few seconds. Once he deems it not as bad as he thought it’d be, he relaxes, but still looks at her with concern in his eyes.

“What happened?”

“I accidentally told her you were trans,” Sara confesses, looking down to the floor to avoid Phichit’s stare.

“Oh,” Phichit says, and it’s not a happy sound. Sara’s stomach drops. “Hey.” He coaxes her face up with one hand under her chin until she looks at him in the eyes again. He’s serious, but he’s wearing a small, comforting smile. “I’m not mad, although you really shouldn’t have done that. It’s not nice to out people without their consent, but I’m really not hiding it so it’s not a big deal for me.”

“It just slipped out before I could notice! And I didn’t tell her you’re a trans boy, I just —” And then Sara realizes she’s making excuses for herself, so she shuts up.

Phichit lets out a chuckle and pats her head, like he’s not three years younger than her. “How did it even come up, though?”

“Oh!” Sara perks up at that, remembering why she even brought Phichit up in her conversation with Mila. “She’s looking for models! She asked me to model and said she’s looking for non-conventional models. She mentioned she was looking for trans people to model, too, and I thought it’d fit you like a glove.” Sara finally smiles again, although it’s small and just a dash of hopeful.

Phichit suddenly grabs her by the shoulders and starts shaking her, his eyes shining so brightly with excitement it almost hurts her. “Oh. My. God! You should’ve started with that! I’m so on board!” He stops shaking her only to place a kiss on either of her cheeks, always the dramatic. It makes Sara giggle.

“I knew you’d be down for it.”

“Of-fucking-course!” He suddenly pulls out his phone, frantically going through his never-ending contact list. “Hey, you think I could tell Yuuri and Viktor? And Yurio and Otabek and Seung-Gil! This is gonna be so awesome, oh my god.”

“The more the merrier,” Sara replies, but Phichit is already furiously typing away and calling numbers left and right. With a disbelieving shake of her head, Sara wonders if asking Phichit was the best or the worst possible decision she could’ve made.

“Um.”

A rasp of a throat makes Sara whirl around, only to come face to face with Mila once again. A small smile stretches her lips without her consent as soon as she lays eyes on the redhead.

“I just realized I kind of never got your name?” She says as she looks at Sara sheepishly and almost with a hint of guilt in her eyes.

Sara chuckles. “I’m Sara.” She extends a hand over the counter towards Mila.

Mila takes the hand and shakes it with a big grin on her face. “Very nice to meet you, Sara. You already know my name,” and she takes out her hand from Sara’s grasp with a crooked grin. She takes out a folded napkin from the pocket of her jacket and hands it to Sara, “but this is my number. Please call me or message me so I can yours as well.”

(For a moment, Sara just stares at the folded napkin on her hand dumbfounded. She got the number. She got the _very pretty_ girl’s number. Holy shit.)

“Viktor and Yuuri said yes!” Comes a very excited shout from inside the backroom. Phichit’s head is barely poking out of the door. “Which means Yurio’s in too! This is gonna be so good, oh God.” His voice trails off as he walks back into the room again.

Sara slumps, but she’s smiling.

“Is that Phichit?” Mila asks with a raised eyebrow, but an amused smile.

“Yeah,” and Sara chuckles before continuing. “He wants to model. And I also may have gotten all of your other model spots covered, depending on how many of the people Phichit’s asking agree to do it.”

Mila looks at her like Sara just told her the second coming of God is happening and she’s got a spot secured in heaven. She also kinda looks like she wants to kiss her, and Sara panics for a moment, but Mila doesn’t move.

“Oh my God? I - How can I _thank you_ , holy shit.” She’s grinning like mad, one of her hands pulling back her hair from her face in disbelief.

“Just make sure to make us look good,” Sara says, and she risks a playful wink.

That makes Mila laugh, and she sounds so genuinely happy Sara feels something inside of her swell up.

“Even more?” She asks, and Sara’s smile wavers a bit. Are they flirting? Before she can make up her mind, though, Mila lets out a sigh. “Alright. I’ve got _so much_ work to do now, but this is probably the first time I’m not dreading it. I’ll swing by tomorrow so we can polish the details?”

The last sentence is a question and Sara nods in reply. “Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good.” Mila nods as well and starts walking towards the door. Before she can go out, though, she stops dead in her tracks and turns around, lifting up the disposable cup of coffee in her right hand that Sara hadn’t even noticed she was carrying. “The coffee’s good, but you forgot the heart again, pretty girl.”

She winks. Sara positively swoons.

They’re _definitely_ flirting now.

(As she inputs Mila’s number and name under a new contact in her phone, Sara can’t believe she actually has to thank Phichit for this development. Cupid indeed.)

 

*

 

The next day Sara takes a longer-than-usual break to sit down with Mila and get all the details needed so they can draw up a schedule that will accommodate all of their models. Since they all agreed to walk the runway as well, Mila talks to her about a professional model friend she has and how he’s offered his help. Sara tells her about Viktor and Yurio’s brief career in modelling and how they’re more than eager to help everyone else as well.

Halfway through their chat, Sara gets up to prepare both of them coffees.

She makes sure not to forget the heart this time.

 

*

 

It’s nerve-wracking and the best fucking thing Sara’s ever done.

A total of 12 models make the final walk, one after the other, on the runway. From backstage, Sara can see Viktor and Phichit blowing kisses to the photographers as they walk by. Yuuri holding hands with Viktor and the latter pulling him in for a kiss that’s maybe not so appropriate for a general public. Chris grabs at his own ass at the end of the runway as an improvisation. Yurio pulls Otabek by the hand once they get to the end of the runway and places an arm around his broad shoulders, making a rock sign with his other hand and sticking out his tongue. Otabek just looks at him adoringly.

The rest of the bunch —including Seung-Gil, Guang-Hong, Leo, and Mila’s own professional model friend, Georgi— do their job a little less extravagantly and much more professionally by just doing their final walk on the runway like normal people without pulling any stunts.

And then there’s a tap on Sara’s shoulder and Mila’s there in all her glory, a red beautiful dress, design of her own, enveloping her figure in the most flattering way possible. She’s smiling, has been smiling all evening, so much so that Sara’s wondering by now if her cheeks are hurting. She extends a hand towards Sara, who takes it without a moment of hesitation.

The light of the reflectors and flashes are blinding, but Sara just keeps on walking to the end of the runway, hand in hand with Mila. Once they reach it, she lets go of Mila’s hand to step back and bow behind her, her hands clapping loudly. The entire room roars in applause.

Mila bows two, three times in different directions, and then she turns back to Sara with tears on her eyes. She hugs Sara as hard as she can, sobbing into her shoulder, whispering a silent _thank you_ against the skin.

They return backstage without letting go of each other’s hands.

 

*

 

The after-party takes place in Mila’s tiny apartment, but everyone excuses themselves pretty quickly, eager to get to their beds and finally rest.

It’s not the first time Sara’s been here, she’s actually pretty accustomed to it by now from all the times she came for fittings, modelling lessons and just to hang out with Mila. So she doesn’t even think twice before letting herself fall against the couch without grace or a care in the world, seeing as Mila is laying on the same couch in very much the same fashion.

They’re both _exhausted_ , but it’s a good kind of exhausted, where everything they’d been hoping for had come true and all their hard work had paid off so wonderfully. It’s such a good ache, Sara thinks she could grow to like it.

“You want a coffee?” Sara asks, looking at Mila next to her with a tired smile and raised eyebrows.

Mila doesn’t even open her eyes, just rolls over to lay on top of Sara and give a thumbs up. “Please, babe.”

Sara chuckles. “Coming right up.”

She places a kiss on the top of Mila’s head before she gets up to look for the ground coffee and the paper filters. It’s not anything fancy, nothing like the minty Latte that Sara has learnt is Mila’s favorite, but Mila only owns a coffee maker so they’re gonna have to settle for that. Once is finished brewing, she pours two cups. She places two teaspoons of sugar on each cup, stirs, and takes them both to the coffee table in front of the couch.

Mila’s still lying with her eyes closed and her breathing is so even and calm Sara’s afraid she might’ve fallen asleep, but as soon as the smell of coffee reaches her she perks up, opening her eyes and looking for the source of the smell. Sara nudges her with a foot until she sits upright on one side of the couch, cradling her cup close to her and blowing on it before drinking from it.

Sara grabs her own cup of coffee and smiles down at it for a few moments. “You did it, huh?” She says, and then takes a sip as if making a toast.

“Yeah,” Mila replies, dazed. She frowns shortly after, though, as if she just realized what she said, and turns towards Sara. “ _We_ did it. All of us did.”

Sara rolls her eyes affectionately. “Well, yeah. But you did most of the work, designing the whole clothing line and coming up with the whole concept.”

“But we all worked hard to make this happen,” Mila insists, stubborn as a rock. Sara just chuckles, knowing once her girlfriend’s set on something, there’s no way anything’s gonna change her mind. “It was a group effort.”

“If you say so…” Sara says in a mocking, adoring tone, looking up at the ceiling instead of Mila.

She feels Mila’s fingers grab her chin and pull her face down forcefully, a glint of playfulness in her blue eyes.

“I do say so.”

Without letting go of her chin, Mila brings them closer until their lips touch. It’s a kiss on more of a lazy side, seeing as they’re both so tired, but it still ignites something warm on Sara. She carefully puts down the cup of coffee to grab at Mila’s hair with her hands, making a mess of it like she loves to do. They break away after a few moments with panting breath and big smiles.

“So, Top Model Sara Crispino,” Mila starts, moving her hand from Sara’s chin to her cheek and stroking slowly. Sara can’t help but laugh at the title. “How are you gonna congratulate me on my very first, very successful fashion show?”

Sara lifts an amused eyebrow. “Oh? Wasn’t the after-party enough?”

“No-op,” Mila says, making a popping sound with the word. She’s very clearly enjoying this.

“Well, then.” Sara stands up, out of Mila’s grasp and shakes her hands on her jeans. She turns back to face a confused but intrigued Mila and bends down.

In one swift motion, Sara slides one arm under Mila’s knees and one under her waist, easily lifting her up in a princess carry. Mila lets out a yelp of surprise when she feels herself being lifted up, but it dissolves into a surprised but very satisfied laugh shortly after. She laces her arms around Sara’s neck, her eyes screaming with playfulness and flooded with love.

(Sara still sometimes doesn’t believe she gets to call this wonderful, beautiful, amazing girl her _girlfriend_. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her in her whole life.)

“Let’s go get your present, princess.”

And Sara’s smiling crookedly, all playful aura and smug smiles, and Mila’s kicking her legs in excitement. She continues to laugh as Sara carries her into the bedroom.

It’s the most beautiful sound Sara’s ever heard.

She can’t wait to enjoy it for the rest of her life.


End file.
